In a Pickle
Some of the following Anu, Ashok, Conrad, Gaelikaa, Ginger, Judy, Magpie 11, Maria, Ramana and I, all part of the Loose Blogging consortium will dip into our pasts to share once more our thoughts or deeds on the topic for the week, chosen today by Gaelikaa
The Wildest Thing I Did in my Youth
When does Youth begin or end? ‘One can be old at an early age and young at a late age’, this is a phrase I learned from Ian. I sometimes think I missed ‘youth’ on the first time round, but these days I feel younger than I did forty years ago!
It’s never too late to have a happy childhood,
But the second one is up to you and no one else.
If it is up to me, I intend making the most of every moment of this second childhood. My youth began about five years ago! It did. Really. I am telling you, because I decided it did! So let me think…. Ah! I remember.
I WAS PICKLED!
No Nancy! Not with vinegar, that is for beetroot!
It was a couple of years ago now, and I was a raw youth remember. I had a date. There were would be Toyboys - PLENTY OF TOYBOYS! I would have competition. Nimble nubile little beauties…
I needed all the help I could get.
It was the month of February filled with endless dreary bleak days and there was no sign of Spring. Alas I spent most of the time indoors. Indoors makes for pale people and ‘pale’ is certainly not my colour. I was becoming as grey as the weather and overtaken by Gerty Gloom! A week in the sun was what I needed but it was out of the question, so I would have to find another way….. The mirror taunted on a daily basis and after a lengthy debate of at least five minutes, my pride took over demanding that drastic measures be taken.
An appointment was quickly made at my local beauty salon. It had worked for Elly & George’s wedding the previous year, everyone remarked that day about how well I looked, so why not just repeat the performance once more! I had it all worked out, easy peasy…. a couple of hours and I would be the Belle of the Ball!
Stage 1 was to have the now greying eyebrows and eyelashes dyed to add definition and once all was dry I went to the spray paint shop for Stage 2. My instructions were clear and simple: I wanted a healthy glow and not to look like I was marinated in carrot and orange juice for a month! The beautician seemed quite efficient and worked in a steady way around my body. It looked a little darker than I intended, but that was probably my eyes playing tricks since I was so pale before she began.
The colour seemed to become stronger as it settled and by morning I was certainly not anaemic! The beautician must have been distracted or misheard my message, because after thirty years living in Northern Ireland I had become an Orange Woman! 
Holy mother of the the vestal virgins, what on earth was I going to do?
“Shower”! I shouted. I have no notion why I was shouting since I was the only person in the house.
I scrubbed, I rinsed and I scrubbed again, to no avail. Even my salty tears had no effect. I was contemplating taking the veil. I was desperate!
Having arranged to meet Elly by lunchtime I decided to set out and she would come up with a solution for me. Little did I realise how punny and funny that would turn out to be!
The eyelashes were the correct colour but alas the eyebrows looked as if they were painted with an inch wide brush and the colour was completely wrong for me. If I was no picture to look at, then Elly’s face sure made up for it! “OMG! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU MUM?” replaced the usual excited welcome and hug.
While I sipped coffee frantic calls were made to Elly’s good friend Ena at Isis Beauty Salon, and appointments were juggled about to accommodate me. Ena set to work and sorted the eyebrows. Using alcohol soaked pads she gently started to rub my face. “Yes its working”, squealed Elly, and I am not sure if it was encouragement for Ena or to appease me. Since I was lying down with my eyes closed I had no idea if I was now striped like a Zebra or spotted like a Leopard!
“VODKA!” said Ena. “Buy some on the way home and use it to bleach the skin”
We did! And within the hour I was stripped, dipped, and went a step further than Cleopatra!’ She bathed in Asses’ milk, but Grannymar bathed in Vodka!
It worked and I did go to the Ball
Once I entered the Alexander Hotel the Toyboys were surrounding me and falling to their knees. We had fun, we had laughter and met amazingly talented people, it was an honour to be there and the memories will linger for many a long year!
Late in the evening I was interviewed by Conn Ó Muíneacháin! We finished with the story of the young gentleman who earlier shook my hand and told me I made his night, (now you don’t expect me to name him here, do you?). I told Conn that it was many a long year since I made any man’s night! With that his tape ran out and it was time for Cinderella to return to the ashes.
Rummuser said,
February 26, 2010 at 2:55 pm
Grannymar, you must really give serious consideration to writing an autobiography! You seem to swing from adventure to adventure!
Nancy said,
February 26, 2010 at 3:15 pm
Grannymar,
You are not the only one who has made beauty mistakes.
Many years ago at a USAF Base in Virginia, we lived in a small neighborhood outside of the base. Our circle of homes consisted of 9 houses and we were all either Air Force or NASA.
In one of the houses lived our friends Reverend and Mrs Edward Smith (Not their real names). Ed was the Chaplain at the base and his lovely wife, Laura, took care of their home and three children.
At the time, all the rage was “Streaking” your hair with stripes of blonde highlights. Laura mentioned her desire to have her dark hair streaked but she couldn’t afford the cost of having it done.
“NO PROBLEM”, we all shouted, “We can do that to your hair and no one will never know that it wasn’t done professionally.”
Laura agreed and on Saturday morning we all gathered at my house and we proceeded with the hair streaking. We put a bathing cap full of holes on Laura’s head and pulled strands of hair through the holes with a crochet hook. Then we put the bleach on the hair that we pulled through. Oh, we were so proud of ourselves!
When we took the cap off after the prescribed time,
poor Laura looked like anyone but the Chaplain’s wife. She would have been arrested as a hooker if she had gone outside, and we dared not let her go home looking like that because poor Reverend Ed would have fainted. Her normally dark brown hair now had HUGE patches of peroxide blonde all through it and looked incredibly bad. Even a real hooker would have turned her nose up at our sorry efforts to make Laura beautiful.
Since there was no way we could ever fix what we had done our only hope was to spirit Laura to a real hairdresser and have it fixed. We all “Chipped in” the money to have it done and when she returned about four nail biting hours later, she looked pretty much like she did before our venture into the hairdressing waters.
Her husband was none the wiser and we never again
attempted anything like that. We were so glad it turned out all right ,we heaved a sigh of relief and vowed to stick only to what we really knew in the future….
gaelikaa said,
February 26, 2010 at 3:58 pm
OMG what an an adventure. It is never too late to have a wild and adventurous youth!
Maria said,
February 26, 2010 at 4:28 pm
You are the superhero of my second childhood! Grannymar, my husband loves his vodka so I found myself laughing and laughing as I read about bathing in vodka. I don’t think I will try it. I don’t want poor Bob to have to choose between his vodka and me. I might not win out.
wisewebwoman said,
February 26, 2010 at 4:30 pm
I love how your “youth” happened two years ago, GM.
And all was well, I see.
I know I went a little crazy (well a lot!) on the purple clothes and red hair last year, it was a hoot….
XO
WWW
Grannymar said,
February 26, 2010 at 5:15 pm
Ramana - My life story is here already.
Nancy - Poor Laura having to go through that agony to get back to where she started.
I worked with a girl once who decided to go blonde a la DIY. She had long dark brown hair. I think she used a full bottle of peroxide. When she arrived in the office the next day she looked like Worzel Gummidge! With each hour of the working day her hair became shorter as another inch or two broke off. It certainly put me off tampering with my autumn tresses for life!
Gaelikaa - It is one adventure I will never forget!
Maria - I don’t think I will ever drink vodka again!
WWW - My ‘youth’ is now gonna last a very long time!
Nancy said,
February 26, 2010 at 6:23 pm
Grannymar,
I just remembered the story of the woman who was told by her doctor to take a milk bath.
She called her milkman and told him she needed some milk for her tub. He said, “I’ll be right over.’
When he got there he asked how much milk she needed. She said “I will get in the tub and you can start filling it with the milk.” He said,’Pasteurized?” She said,’ No, just up to my boobs.”
Conrad said,
February 26, 2010 at 6:24 pm
Let’s see, a beauty treatment, emergency repair, a tub full of vodka to soak in, a ball to attend - GM, you couldn’t even afford Cinderella’s Pumpkin at that point, let alone the Coach!
What a story!
Maynard said,
February 26, 2010 at 7:00 pm
Great story Grannymar, this deserves a picture make-over. It’s on its way .
Grannymar said,
February 26, 2010 at 9:26 pm
Nancy - Another good story, I am giggling as I type!
Conrad - I learned na great lesson that day… nature’s way is best!
Maynard - What are you up to now?
Baino said,
February 26, 2010 at 11:44 pm
You’re only young once but you can stay immature indefinitely. . I have this fridge magnet! I believe it. Great story, I remember it actually. I’ve never been game to go for the ‘fake tan’ I see so many orange people around these days. Fortunately, I have brownish skin anyway, must be the sunshine!
Marianna said,
February 27, 2010 at 6:03 am
What doesn’t kill you, makes….for a great story!
Ian said,
February 27, 2010 at 9:57 am
Grannymar,
There was a writer in Dublin, maybe David McWilliams, who talked about the “Jagger Generation”, the people of a certain age who had decided that they were not getting old.
I think that has partly been made possible because youth culture is now so fragmented that the music bands, a major shaper of culture, that fill stadiums and top the bills at festivals are those from a former age. Nothing has come along to elbow out of the way those who in former times would have been considered to have had their day.
Grannymar said,
February 27, 2010 at 3:29 pm
Baino - I learned my lesson, from now on it will be pale and interesting for me!
Marianna - Life is a series of stories, sometimes we glance and forget to read them thoroughly!
Ian - I am not quite the “Jagger Generation”, but I intend making the most of my second chance at childhood.
kenju said,
February 27, 2010 at 3:44 pm
I don’t know which of you has better stories, but you and Arkansas Patti should both write books!!!
Grannymar said,
February 27, 2010 at 3:57 pm
Judy - I would never have the patience to write a book. 1000 words are my limit!
momma said,
February 28, 2010 at 3:53 am
I love the little stories that even your commentators leave to go along with your most entertaining experiences.
Grannymar said,
February 28, 2010 at 8:56 am
momma - The stories in the comments are the readybrek to fuel my enthusiasm for fresh blogging each day.